


Darkspawn Totems and Cameo Lockets

by AdmiralAnarchy



Series: Reliquaries and Remembrances [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Age Headcanons, Exploration of world and lore, F/M, Fifth Blight (Dragon Age), Hurt Minimal Comfort, It's Thedas expect nothing happy, M/M, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdmiralAnarchy/pseuds/AdmiralAnarchy
Summary: Lavellan had come a long way- further than anyone previously thought.After barely escaping the Blight ravaging Fereldan, he had thought the Free Marches would become his new home, but unrest in Kirkwall would send him back to the land he fled- and possibly save the world in the process.A prequel to Halla Statuettes & Mabari Figurines
Relationships: Male Lavellan/ Original Female Character, Male Lavellan/ Original Male Character
Series: Reliquaries and Remembrances [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857721
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy look at me here with another fic~ 
> 
> Anyway, this is the backstory to my Inquisitor Lavellan from Halla Statuettes and Mabari Figurines that I thought I'd share because exploring the world and lore of Thedas is fun. It will hopefully be pretty short and will then go to post Conclave Pre-Dorian stuff. As such, it will spoil his tragic backstory. 
> 
> So if you are impatient like I am well hey here ya go.
> 
> Anyway warnings, Thedas is terrible and terrible things happen. Most original characters will die.

"Marion!" Ellana swore, then stomped around the corner of the open Aravel. "Marion?"

She popped her head into the wagon and frowned at the emptiness. 

"What do you need?"

She whirled upon her half-brother, startled at his approach. He raised a red eyebrow at her and crossed his arms, ever the more quiet of the twins, both in step and speech. 

"Mahanon and the hunters still haven't come back."

Marion didn't even blink. "It takes time to reach the Fereldan village."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "They left early this morning. They should have been back three hours ago even if they took the long way."

With that he finally relented. "Alright. You want me to go look then?" She nodded. 

Bears and wolves had been getting bolder as of late. 

"Then I'll be back with them shortly." He smiled reassuringly. "Try not to worry too much in the meantime, Mahanon probably just got stuck in the bog again."

She snorted. "Probably. Bring them back safe."

Marion laughed and wandered off with a wave. The Keeper would be unhappy with him leaving his work unfinished, but he was always unhappy with him these days. He should have asked Ellana to keep the old codger occupied for a bit, but the fuss she would've made wouldn't be worth it. She'd been complaining about him more frequently and openly in a worrying way lately. He hadn't taught her any magic, any lore,  _ anything _ for over a month now, instead he had been holed up and recalcitrant, doggedly ignoring his duties and his people. 

He didn't know what to do about it, and knew better than to bring it up again. 

But first, he needed to find Mahanon. Today was the day the hunters went to trade with the nearby human settlement a few hours away to the north. They were a surprisingly friendly bunch of farmers and Druffalo herders, and they were generous with their harvests. It had been years since their clan had settled in this part of the Korcari Wilds, and still the Fereldans welcomed them. Marion wasn't about to complain.

The Korcari Wilds had been his home for as long as he could remember, his mother joining the clan shortly after he was born. It was all he really knew, terrible a place as it often was. It was also beautiful if you knew where to look. It scared the humans though, despite their proximity to its edge, so they paid well for others to go forage in their stead. Something his clan was quite skilled at. 

It was no short hike however, and the evening sun was just beginning to cast the land in a dull glow by the time he neared the first of the houses. A farmer looked up at his approach, squinting at him from overtop a hay bale. 

"Didn't I just see you a few hours ago?" He asked, more confused than rude.

Marion chuckled, "my brother maybe. He left some time ago then?"

The farmer nodded, "headed off to the path along the creek 'round noontime."

That route was a bit winding but not enough to delay by three hours. Maybe two at the most. Marion frowned and thanked the farmer, cutting through the edge of the town towards the weak stream that ran around the borders of the settlement. 

"Marion! Is that you?" A woman called from behind the shoddy building that passed as the tavern. "Better not be Mahanon again."

Marion turned with a laugh. "Gracie, gaildahlas," he greeted, smiling wide as he sauntered over. "I'm offended you still can't tell us apart."

"In mood, certainly," she leaned over the fence to plant a kiss on his cheek. "It's been slow if you'd like to come in. Eadric won't mind if I slip away."

"Eadric might not, but your mother certainly will," Marion replied, lips still tugged up coyly. "She was quite upset the last time she caught us together."

"We were naked in a barn having a tumble in the hay. Anyone would be offended." 

"I'll take you somewhere classier next time," he promised with a wink. "I know a rather nice cave nearby…"

"You're incorrigible!" She laughed and dragged her hands down the front of his leathers. "Can I at least get you a drink?"

"I'm afraid not." He gently took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to each knuckle. "My idiot brother hasn't returned."

She pouted. "He probably just got stuck in the bog again."

Marion laughed. "I hope so. But the animals have been acting strange lately, so it's best to go check."

"So you've noticed it too?" Gracie shuddered. "Arno's Mabari passed last night, protecting him from a mad bear. Not sure what's going on lately."

Marion frowned, "I'm not sure either." He leaned in for a kiss and let her hands free. "I'll be back soon, vehnan. Stay safe."

She giggled and kissed him back, but Eadric called her name from within the tavern and she left in a flutter of skirts and long brown braids, dotted with flower buds. Marion turned and headed towards the stream with a sense of foreboding. Mahanon was a capable hunter, he and the others could hold their own.

He hoped.

His fellows were, at least, easy for him to track using stalks of elfroot missing a single leaf- the work of his twin. It created a trail that followed the weak stream a ways before veering off in the direction of the Chasind village a distance away. Rosalan kept some of his traps set nearby. Perhaps he wished to check on them?

The noises of a fight had him doubtful and he broke into a sprint, following the sounds. Through the trees and low fog he saw the flash of green and black armor, as well as hunched, gnarled shapes. Marion didn't wait to find out before crashing through the trees, short sword unsheathed.

He registered  _ darkspawn _ before bringing his blade down, slicing the hurlocks neck and then back up to sever an arm. Sludgy blood splattered the ground and up his sword and leathers. He glanced around, taking stock of the situation.

A hunter, Laria, lay crumpled on the ground unmoving, another, poor Rosalan, lay propped against a tree nursing a wound in his side bleeding blackish grey. Marion could make a fine healing draught, but nothing that could stem darkspawn taint. Talin and Mahanon stood back to back, keeping the three remaining darkspawn at bay.

"Marion!" Talin at least looked thankful to see him. "Thank the Creators."

Mahanon shot him a frown, "is it just you or did they send a full party?"

The darkspawn regarded him with interest, sizing him up. Marion slipped on his shield and stared them down. "Just me."

Mahanon nodded and unloosed his arrow. It embedded wetly into the middle darkspawns throat and Talin ran it through with her spear. Marion intercepted one of the other darkspawn who moved to retaliate, grimacing at the smell. The last genlock was dispatched by Talin and the little grove went silent. 

Nine darkspawn corpses in total, and they had lost one, soon to be two. Marion glanced at Rosalan sadly. Unless a merry band of Wardens came along, he wouldn't make it to nightfall before becoming a ghoul.

Talin wiped her blade and skin with shaking hands. She and Laria had been close. "What are we going to do?"

Mahanon shook his head and knelt in front of the dying hunter. "Rosalan, lethal'lin, that wound is no good."

"Maybe- maybe a Warden will come by the camp," Rosalan stuttered. 

"Wardens haven't been seen here in years," Marion said quietly. "Not since they came to the town to recruit Davis after he butchered his brother."

"Please," Rosalan reached up with a bloody hand, smearing rust across Mahanon's wrist. "I don't want to die."

Marion grimaced and Talin wept silently, unable to wipe her tears lest she get the taint into her eyes. 

"I'm sorry, lethal'lin," Mahanon muttered, slipping his hunting knife from its sheath. "Marion, did you bring anything?"

He shook his head, "only healing potions." Nothing that would ease his passing, or at least make it more gentle.

Mahanon nodded and in one swift movement slit Rosalan's throat with one quick and clean slice. Rosalan gurgled, too weak to even raise his hands and slumped forwards into Mahanon's arms. 

"We should bury the darkspawn. No need to kill the grove too." Mahanon said, resting Rosalan's limp body back against the tree. "After we deal with our own."

Talin nodded and got to work, while Marion glanced back to his brother. "This many darkspawn is unusual."

"I know," Mahanon replied, thoughtful. "They seemed to spring up from the ground, near the stream."

"Could there be a tunnel?"

"I hope not. I didn't get a good look before." He stood, shooting an unspoken request for Marion to join him. 

Together, the two went back towards the stream searching its edge. Despite its weak trickle of water, it had many branching paths through deep rivulets carved out over the ages and from times when it was more than just an ambitious spill doggedly tracking over the many cliffs and ridges of the wilds. There was plenty of ground to cover, plenty of caves and hiding spots for a darkspawn tunnel, and there, between a fork in the stream, was a raised mound of soil and gravel. Marion called for Mahanon and they both looked down at the dark tunnel.

It had been recently made, both good news and bad. 

"You don't think…" Marion began.

"It's too soon to tell," Mahanon countered.

Marion frowned and looked up. "It was an awfully large number of darkspawn to encounter by chance."

"Blight is a serious word to throw around." Mahanon stood and gestured to a large boulder by the water. Together they rolled the heavy rock over the top of the tunnel, where it settled into the muddy bank, the stream gurgling around it. "It'll cause panic."

"Perhaps. It won't hurt to keep watch."

"I suppose. Does this mean you are volunteering to talk to the Keeper then?"

Marion grimaced. "I'd rather not, but it was my idea. Let's just hope I'm worrying for nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a Blight? Is it darkspawn on vacation? Who knows
> 
> Also thanks to the Elvhen Lexicon Project again!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back again with more backstory
> 
> Cw: more minor original character death, field surgery and wounds, mentions of abuse

"It looks like your talk went poorly," Mahanon mused darkly. 

Marion held his throbbing cheek and stared furiously at the ground. "How ever could you tell," unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Mahanon regarded him for a moment before moving, pulling Marion's hand away and inspecting the swelling red mark underneath. "He's getting worse."

"He is."

"Perhaps Ellana can heal this."

Marion snorted. "I'll rub some elfroot on it. She couldn't cure a splinter."

"I could!" Ellana huffed indignantly. 

"Sure," Marion replied absently. "I don't like darkspawn tunnels showing up so close."

"You blocked it though, right?"

"Yes but, if what we've been told of darkspawn is true, anything bigger than a genlock will be able to move it." Mahanon shook his head. "The Keeper didn't care at all?"

"No, he was… he refused to listen. Amongst other things." Marion grimaced. "I just hope I'm worrying for nothing."

Marion almost believed he was wrong about what the tunnel meant. 

The days passed by in an idle haze, a foreboding cloud hanging over the camp as whispers of darkspawn spread around. Eventually they petered out completely, marked as just a fluke, a strange and anomalous tragedy. Laria and Rosalan were mourned, and things returned to normal over the span of a week. As Marion watched over the Halla, strung and dried cords of herbs, and kept a wary eye out for more signs of trouble, he wondered if maybe that would be the end of it. It had been a long time since the last Blight after all, and a small troop of darkspawn wasn't entirely unheard of. 

It was a misty drizzle on the day the clan fell apart, sudden and unpredictable.

Clouds had been steadily rolling in over the course of the afternoon, eventually blocking out the evening sun. The thick forest canopy stole the rest of the light, and Marion scooted closer to the fire to help aid his work. Prophets laurel was a rare find out here and he was determined to make every bit count- he just needed to dry the leaves first and separate the thick, toxic coating from the useful innards of the stems. On his other side, Mahanon sat with a pile of sleek feathers newly acquired from a fallen falcon and was methodically notching them into his arrows. There was a quiet murmur in the camp as everyone settled into the encroaching dark. 

Marion slid the edge of his peeling knife along the ropey coils of vine absently, eyes locked on two of his clanmates chatting further away. Haras had been attempting to woo Janelles unsuccessfully for weeks now, and it had become less entertaining to watch and more sad and pathetic as time passed.

"I wonder when Janelles will just give in," Mahanon muttered, equally invested in the drama of Haras' failed romance.

"It's unlikely to happen. Haras will get another fist to the face before then. You remember last Tuesday."

Mahanon grimaced. He had heard the smack of Janelle's fist connecting to Haras' jaw from across the camp. It had taken several of Marion's tonics to heal the damage and the idiot tried again as soon as able, much to everyone's frustration. Janelle had a mean right hook but instead of being a deterrent it ended up as an attractant.

Before Janelle could reenact the events of last Tuesday, a black arrow suddenly embedded into Haras' chest. The elf slumped and more arrows followed, falling into the camp like a parody of rain, thunking into Aravels and supplies, and wetly into bodies. Haras fell to the ground limply while everyone else screamed and took cover best they could in the half-light. Marion pushed Mahanon out of the way, catching an arrow to the side of his arm in the process. Together they rolled behind an Aravel as screams began to carry over the camp. 

Mahanon twisted around and sent an arrow flying into the dark underbrush. The gurgling hiss of a dying genlock was momentarily rewarding until it was met by the howls of nearly a dozen more. Mahanon swore and hid back behind the Aravel as arrows slammed into the edge right where his face had been. 

He glanced at Marion's bleeding arm. "Mari?"

"It's okay. There's no taint."

Mahanon nodded, fingers trembling. "Where are your weapons?"

"By the fire. Can you…?" Mahanon nodded and Marion wasted no time ducking back to the campfire as arrows flew from Mahanon's bow. It was enough cover for him to nab his short sword and shield and most of Marion's pile of finished arrows. 

"Hopefully I made those arrows well," Mahanon mused as Marion returned.

"We'll find out." He slid the ironbark shield over his arm and left his sheath in the dirt. "Shall we?"

Mahanon nodded, and together they slipped from behind the Aravel and circled the edge of the fire towards the brush. Arrows slammed into Marion's shield but tapered off the closer they got, replaced with the sound of scraping iron. 

Genlocks suddenly burst from the brush, howling and screeching and swinging rusty and fouled axes. Marion swung wide, sword cleaving through their arms and slitting their bellies as Mahanon covered him from behind with a quick volley. The fire light flickered but was enough to illuminate restless shadows in the dark. He'd always had the better eyes of the two, and the low light was hardly a hamper. 

With a shout others in the clan began to join: Janelle and Kelani with bows, Talin with her spear, Juna and Mathren flanking from the side. The twins hoped Ellana had stayed with the Keeper, safe and away from the fray. The arrival of so many fighters was enough to push the darkspawn back- although how many had fled was uncertain. 

Marion wiped darkspawn blood from his face and took in the sight of the battle as torches were lit. Janelle lay crumpled with an arrow to the throat, and Mathren was sobbing as water was poured over his ruined eye. His attention was focused solely on Mahanon- and the arrow sticking from his thigh. 

"Mana," he breathed, fingers steadier than the rest of him as he slipped several elfroot flasks from his belt. "Mana, you didn't-"

"No, no I don't think so," Mahanon grimaced as he lowered himself to the ground. It was deep, and blood welled up thickly around the entry. "Are you alright?"

Marion shot him a dumbfounded look. "I'm certainly doing better than you." His waterskin had made it unscathed through the fight and it was unceremoniously dumped on Mahanons thigh

"Mahanon!" Ellana called, rushing over to the twins' side and swearing at the sight. "That's awful deep."

"It'll come out cleaner if we push it the rest of the way through," Marion observed quietly. "It's nearly there already, it just faltered halfway through your meaty thighs."

"Many women find my meaty thighs very attractive," Mahanon joked, although it fell flat. "Push it through."

Marion nodded, hesitated. "I shouldn't." He lifted up his hands, smeared blackish red.

Ellana sighed, nodding in understanding. "Brace yourself, brother." She wrapped one hand around the shaft of the arrow.  


Mahanon tensed, nodded, and then screamed as the arrow was forced through his flesh, Marion wincing in tandem. Focusing, Ellana sent a bolt of magic through the arrow shaft, snapping it in half before sliding the bolt out and reaching around to pull the arrowhead through. Marion handed his groaning twin a healing draught as Ellana worked to try and knit his skin back together.

"Ellana," Talin called from nearby. "Please, come see to Mathren's eye. It won't stop bleeding."

Ellana nodded and hurried off as Juna hesitantly asked, "the Keeper and the children, is he…?"

"He's safe, as are the children. The darkspawn didn't make it any farther."

Marion was both relieved and utterly  _ furious _ . Kelani had to help flush and tie the still mending hole in Mahanon's thigh, two more of their clan were dead, and another lost his eye. This couldn't go on. They needed to leave- to join another clan for safety, to investigate, to prepare.

"I'm going to talk to the Keeper again."

Mahanon shot him a sad look but nodded. "I'll be right behind you. Soon as I can stand."

"You'll need to be careful," Kelani warned, ever the mother hen. "Don't push yourself."

Marion rolled his eyes as Mahanon protested and fussed and headed off to the Keeper's Aravel, bracing himself for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Keeper is terrible and I'm sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things spiral for the kids
> 
> Rip
> 
> Cw: child abuse, verbal abuse, violence, murder, hallacide

The Keeper of their clan had lived for centuries. Supposedly he had woken from an uthenera, long ago around the fourth Blight. He had once been wise and patient with his people, but recently had fallen into the grip of madness. For the siblings, that madness was all they knew of the man. 

Their mother had been a Second, joining the clan while still carrying Ellana and when he and Mahanon had been very young. The Keeper Absalan had been kind back then, welcoming despite the nature of his mother's arrival and the circumstances surrounding her sons. Not long after she had passed from complications of birth, he had begun to slip a little at a time.

He called himself cursed, and began to withdraw from his people. At first he had hardly looked upon the twins, until his attention turned to contempt that gradually devolved into violent disgust. He started to drink, to ignore the rest of the clan, and many feared he had begun consorting with demons. His once proud back had bowed, his hair greyed and fraying, and his face locked in a permanent twist. He wasn't as cruel to Ellana, teaching her magic and lore albeit grudgingly, holding his endless ire for the twins instead.

'You've brought doom upon my head,' he once spat. 'You've brought doom upon the clan. Fen'harel guides your steps, cursed children, and the world will suffer because of it.'

During his darker moments, Marion sometimes wondered if what he said was true. Now, he couldn't help but wonder if he should have let Talin (or literally anyone else) talk to the Keeper instead, if he would have listened. If more hadn't needed to die and his clan and brother wouldn't have been hurt so terribly. Perhaps it would have gone the same no matter who had tried.

Some of his fury gave way to nervousness and fear the closer he got to the Keeper's closed off Aravel. These talks never went well. But if not him, who? 

Steeling himself for the worst, Marion stepped into the Aravel and froze. It looked as though a small whirlwind had swept through, smashing furniture and breaking pottery and glass. Even some of the wood from the interior paneling had been stripped and warped, leaving jagged spikes in the walls and floor. In the midst of it all stood Keeper Absalan, shaking and breathing hard, his staff broken at his feet and a bloodied dagger in his hands.

"Keeper," Marion said, quietly questioning.

" _ You _ ," the Keeper spat, turning to face him with a hiss. "This is all the fault of your demon-fucking mother." 

Marion winced. "This has nothing to do with her. There's a Blight coming. Two more of your clan were killed-"

"It matters not. I can't use their ink anymore. Not since  _ she _ ruined it," Absalan wailed pitifully, ignoring him. "Her curse lives on. It lives in  _ you _ and that other one. Demonspawn, the lot of you!"

"Keeper," Marion whispered, stepping backwards. He hadn't been this bad, this incomprehensible. What had happened since Ellana left? 

"I would have outlived the Blight," Absalan growled, advancing menacingly. The dagger dripped blood, matching the wound in his forearm and Marion saw a slight red glow come from ruined raised flesh. "Perhaps I can again if I remove her curse from me."

Curse? "What have you done to yourself?" Marion needed help- but who could help with  _ this _ ? Whatever  _ this _ was. 

One thing was for certain; the Keeper intended to kill him.

With a flick of his bloodied wrist, Keeper Absalan energized the wreckage to block the door behind Marion. He was trapped and Absalan lunged with a shout. Desperately, he dodged to the side, tripping over splinters and broken shards and falling backwards with a sharp grunt, the Keeper following with the knife raised. A length of the floor had been rent into a stake, slicing through Marion's side as he fell heavily onto his back.

The same stake caught the Keeper in the chest, just below his heart.

Marion watched in shock as the Keeper faltered, the knife slipping from his hands with a clatter. "Dread Wolf…" he gurgled, blood dripping from his twisted lips, "take you," until he fell limp.

The weight of him was heavy, and the cooling tackiness of blood was spreading across Marion's front, but he couldn't move. He hadn't meant for it to go like this- 

Tears welled in his eyes as he shakily touched Absalan's gaunt shoulders, "Keeper?"

"Marion!" Mahanon's voice called from outside, muffled through the barrier of destroyed furnishings. "Fenhedis, what has he done!?"

Marion didn't reply- he'd killed the Keeper of their clan. What did he do now? What  _ could  _ he do? 

"Mari!" Mahanon had wiggled enough of the barricade away to slip into the Aravel, dropping to his brother's side. "Mari?"

"Mana," Marion trembled, "I didn't mean for this- I didn't mean to."

"I know," Mahanon consoled. "It was an accident." Gingerly he attempted to lift the Keeper's corpse off the jagged stake of wood flooring. Blood poured and Marion couldn't stifle his whimper or his tears.

"He had a knife, I tried to run," Marion continued, unable to move away. His hands were covered in blood. "I didn't mean for this to happen- and now I've- I've killed him."

"It was his insanity that took him, not you," Mahanon snapped, but softened. "You can't blame yourself for this, Mari. He was out of his head." Gently Mahanon wiped at the tears and blood on his brother's cheeks, eyeing the wound on his side.

Marion nodded, but guilt was a hard thing to set aside. Mahanon slipped him a healing tonic to drink that did little to stem the slice along his side, grazing the edge of his ribs. He barely felt it, or the wound on his arm, or the myriad of splinters and slivers in the soles of his feet and palms of his hands.

"What do I do?" He whispered.

"I'll tell them I killed the Keeper-" Marion made a noise of protest but was shushed. "I'll tell them I killed him. I walked in and you were in danger, so I did it."

"You can't take the blame for this-"

"I can, and will. This can be the push that gets us to leave," Mahanon continued. "We can find a different clan, go somewhere safe. This  _ will _ be that push, it must be."

Marion frowned but couldn't disagree. Mahanon had a way with words that he lacked, so if anyone could convince the clan, it would be him. 

"What is this?" Mahanon muttered, spotting the glowing red spot on the Keeper's bloody arm. 

"I think there's something embedded," Marion said quietly. "Under his skin."

Mahanon made a face and gingerly pushed on the lump, grimacing as it slipped from under the slit flesh and fell to the floor with a thunk. 

"What is that?" Mahanon picked up the pebble sized chunk of red. Blood slipped from the surface like water off tallow.

"It hums like lyrium," Marion frowned. "I've never seen lyrium that color though."

Mahanon dropped it with a disgusted noise. "What in Thedas-"

"Mahanon! Marion!" Ellana called from outside. "Creators, where did all this come from-"

"Ellana, we're inside," Mahanon called back. 

Ellana swore as her sleeves caught on the wreckage blocking the entrance, but she stumbled into the Aravel, frantic and distraught.

"It's terrible the- Creators, is that the Keeper!?" Ellana gasped. "What happened?"

"He went mad, attacked Marion and attempted to kill him."

"That's, that's- oh Creators." Ellana hid her face in her hands and fell to her knees. "First the darkspawn, then the Halla, and now this-"

Two sets of blue eyes widened, but it was Marion who hesitantly asked "what of the Halla?"

"The Halla- the darkspawn had attacked them under the cover of the fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely things can't get any worse can they?
> 
> Spoiler alert. They can.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go even further downhill in what will be a running theme.
> 
> Cw: animal death, graphic depictions of corpses, aftermath of violence.

"What do you mean you murdered the Keeper?" Mathren roared.

Marion winced, his hand jerking away the cold silver neck he had been stroking. The last of their Halla had succumbed to her wounds half an hour ago, but he couldn't bear to move away. There had been nothing he could do, the red flowers that eased the taint in Blight-poisoned animals was rare enough as is, and was only a stop-gap at best. The Halla that hadn't died quickly suffered until the end, until Marion had eased their passing with tears and sleeping draughts. 

"It means exactly what I said," Mahanon snapped. "And good riddance."

The rest of the clan had been- not exactly accepting, but certainly unsurprised. There was little love left for their former Keeper, save of course for Mathren. Always the challenger, nay-sayer, and eternal pessimist. He had carried a grudge against Mahanon for so long, Marion wondered if he even remembered the cause. Either way, he was stubbornly refusing to believe their story.

"You must be out of your fool mind," Mathren growled. "You kill our Keeper, our  _ leader _ , in cold blood- and you say good riddance?"

"He would have murdered my brother, sliced him up for blood magic. You saw the inside of the Aravel, same as the rest of us," Ellana defended. "There was something dark that took hold of him."

"Oh, what? You sensed it with your magic, First?"

"No, I have eyes, you little-"

"Enough!" Talin barked. "This is getting us nowhere. The Keeper left us long ago, and now… now we need to find somewhere safe."

"Bury our dead first," Juna said. "Then we look for the others. Keeper Zathrian would take us in."

"We haven't seen them in nearly a decade. We've not had contact with  _ anyone _ else in just as long. They've likely moved already," Mathren grumbled.

"We can't find anyone else without Halla either," Talin added. "Best chance is to try to find a place far from the Blight."

"We don't know how far it has spread," Mathren said. "Wandering around aimlessly will only send us bumbling into more darkspawn."

"We can't stay here," Mahanon countered. "We didn't kill all the attackers. They'll be back to finish the job and we don't have the manpower to stop them."

"We could go to the Fereldan village. There is safety in numbers and it's not far," Marion suggested.

"You'd certainly like that, wouldn't you?" Mathren sneered. "We already know of your fondness for shemlin."

"Dread Wolf sit on your head, Mathren," Ellana growled. "It's the best course we have so far and you know it."

Marion ignored them both and continued, "the Chasind are farther away than the Fereldan village. We could exchange information and get a cart. There are other clans in the Hinterlands and near the Brecilian forest, we need only find a trail."

Kelani, who had rejoined not long after gathering up the two youngest, and Talin seemed content with the idea, but Mathren remained skeptical.

"We can decide our next steps once we are safer." Mahanon announced. "For now let's just do what we can. We'll head out at dawn."

The Aravels had to be abandoned, as with much of the supplies. Without a Keeper to smooth the tracks and a Halla to pull, they couldn't be used. Two new cairns of smooth riverstone were built in front of two piles of earth, inset with acorns. Ellana dealt with the bodies of Halla and darkspawn alike. As the first tendrils of dawn's light came filtering through the trees, they gathered their heavy packs and left the Wilds behind.

The trek to the village was quiet, eerily so. The Wilds were usually noisy with the sounds of birdsong, marshland creatures, and the shift of leaves on the wind. It was silent today, without even a gentle breeze to lift the stifling humidity smothering them like a blanket. The sense of foreboding was suffocating.

The village was just on the edge of where soft prairie met bog, as the streams and rivers from Lake Calenhad spliced the land and flushed the wilds with slow moving waters. It was always a rather homely sight, especially in the eyes of nomads.

Today it was a scene of utter ruin and carnage.

The houses were charred husks, if they weren't still on fire, and Druffalo littered the fields in fly-ridden heaps. Worse still were the shapes in the center of the little hamlet.

The villagers used to celebrate a harvest festival in the square at the end of the season, before it gave way to winter. They invited the Dalish, who brought fruits and nuts from the forest and fish and shelled creatures from the swampy waters. It was a peaceful coexistence, mutually beneficial partly in thanks to the isolation of the village and careful contact. The Dalish never lingered in the town, and the humans remained outside the forest except on festival days. Little candle lights on ropes would be strung up from trees and the edges of chimneys, and colorful bunting and strips of fabric would decorate anything they could be wound around. Eadric would play his lute, Arno on the drum, and Cabald the flute as everyone would dance and sing and play games in the evening. Marion had met Gracie at such a party years before, all swirling skirts and sunny laughter, and he had been knocked breathless by her.

Now, he stood breathless as the square stood full of impaled bodies on pikes, Gracie among them.

Her hair was out of its long braid, and her skirts soiled in blood, viscera, and the refuse of death. The flowers she was named after, that she carried with her always, lay trampled and wilted in her hair and at the base of the spear she was fused to. Her eyes, once sparkling with mischief, were locked wide-eyed and glassy with terror. Her left leg was missing at the thigh. 

Marion loved her.

He fell to his knees, not quite able to hold back the sob ripping through his throat. Mahanon placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, although the comfort did little. 

"We'll stay a bit and give them proper ceremony," he said.

Marion nodded, unable to speak, unable to look away. He hated how this would be his last memory of her- twisted with fear and pain. If only he could forget.

"Stay?" Mathren hissed, dropping the charred sack he had been inspecting. "While the darkspawn are still out there you want us to stay and honor humans?"

"They were better neighbors to us than most. You heard stories of other settlements," Talin admitted. "Eadric always bought my bad pelts and never pointed out the arrow holes."

"Don't think I never saw you enjoying their ale, Mathren," Mahanon added. "Hypocrisy is an ugly use for the tongue."

Mathren grumbled but didn't press the issue. 

Carefully, Marion and Mahanon methodically brought the pikes down one by one, but didn't move the bodies. Wrong as it was it seemed worse to cause further damage. Ellana murmured prayers to the Creators as she burned each in a smokeless magefire. Every villager; every man, woman, and child had been slaughtered and strung up in this way. Any Druffalo or Mabari that hadn't fled lay slain in the pastures and kennels, as did any horses. Nothing survived the onslaught.

Ellana shivered afterwards, "the Veil is so thin. I fear what will become of this place."

"We shouldn’t stay here any longer. Let's keep going," Mahanon said. "Do you know which way, Mari?"

Marion looked up from the tracks he was inspecting and frowned. "Not many places to go from the looks of it. The tracks lead from the Wilds. The darkspawn are heading North."

"Then… there's no place in Fereldan that will be safe," Talin muttered hollowly.

"The Brecilian forest is to the east, perhaps it is out of the way," Juna suggested.

"Best to get as far as we can from the Wilds and Fereldan. There are lots of clans in the Free Marches," Ellana said. "We just need to make it to the coastlands."

"Easier said than done," Mahanon replied. "Let's not waste any more time then."

He hiked up his bags and started walking, the others following after. Marion took one last look at the towering trees of the forest, the sloping prairie, the burned village, and the scattering piles of ashes before turning and continuing forward. He didn't look back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easy to forget DA is a dark fantasy series.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy sorry it's been awhile everyone. Anyway here are some more bad things. Thedas is awful!
> 
> Cw: offscreen child death, on screen death, violence, murder, and elf specific murder.

Without the Aravels and laden with supplies and the two children, they were moving far slower than anyone expected, even while using the roads and remnants of highways. It would be nightfall before they made it passed Lake Calenhad, the furthest any of them, aside from the twins, had ever been, and then who knew how many days of constant hiking would take them to the coast. The map they had was so vague and long since out of date, Redcliffe wasn't even on it.

They were heading blindly in the direction of the coast, uncertain of just where they'd arrive and what they'd find along the way. Aside from desolation, that was. The horde seemed to move around them, leaving traces of taint and destruction in their Blighted warpath. Ravaged plains, burning homesteads, and piles of mutilated bodies with foul stenches smelt from great distances greeted them at every turn. It was hard to tell if they were running  _ from _ the darkspawn or  _ towards _ them.

That question found an answer as night fell on the third long day of walking, as the group came upon a hillock above a small hamlet in the Fereldan Hinterlands. The darkspawn had either missed it, or had not yet reached it, but they were grateful for the respite regardless. Carefully and quietly they settled in for the night.

Mahanon stood on the crest of the hill and stared down at the glittering lights of the village. "Don't suppose they might be friendly shems?"

"There's no good way to find out," Marion replied quietly, trying not to jostle Dahla, who had fallen asleep on his back some time ago. He found himself almost jealous of the four year old and her miraculous ability to nap while being carried long distances over harsh terrain. "Aside from going down ourselves to greet them."

"We may need to," Kelani whispered from nearby. "Fallan's fever hasn't let up." Her hand lay across the wheezing boy's forehead. He'd always been sickly, just like his mother, and the travel hadn't done him any favors.

"It's too dark to look for more Embrium and I think I'm all out," Marion muttered, watching Mahanon sift through his pack for him. 

Unlike magic, Embrium was good for fevers, but it was harder to find in the flatter parts of Fereldan. Running from the Blight didn't make gathering it any easier either. 

"The humans may have some… perhaps we could trade something," Kelani suggested.

"What do we even have to offer? We don't have any coin, and that's all humans ever want."

"We have Prophet's Laurel," Marion replied, staring at the bruised shape of it tucked amongst his well-used flasks. "It's rare this side of the Frostbacks… worth more than a heap of Embrium."

"Will they take it?"

"If they know what it is."

"Marion and I can go together then, and trade it," Kelani said, standing. "It won't take long."

It was a fine enough plan, Marion supposed, and he let Ellana tug the sleepy child from his back in favor of gathering his sword and a few daggers. Guided by the glow of lanterns and lit windows, the two made their way down the soft slope of the hill and towards the village. He could barely see Kelani worriedly fidget beside him in the dark.

"He'll be alright," Marion whispered. 

"I hope so," Kelani muttered. "He's all that's left of Rosalan. He's so young. It's a cruel thing, all this."

It was cruel, terribly so. Marion didn't know what else to say. At the edge of the village, they stood awkwardly, glancing around at the wood and stone houses.

"Which do you suppose would have an herbalist?"

"I'm not sure. Human buildings all sort of look the same," Marion admitted. "Perhaps the biggest one? It's an important job, after all."

The layout of the village was confusing in the dark, the houses close enough to be claustrophobic. In the distance a Mabari barked, the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. Unwillingly, Marion thought back to the little village by the stream, how loud and welcoming it was regardless of the hour. 

Kelani tapped his shoulder, pointing into the half-lit gloom. "That's a big house. Let's try asking them."

The house was quite large, certainly bigger than any of the surrounding ones, and also louder. Marion caught sight of a few humans through the murky glass windows, and noticed strange brownish-red streaks painted around the edges as he did. Kelani was already knocking on the door before he could investigate.

It opened to a tall and burly human, a wiry beard obscuring his mouth, but his face brightened upon seeing them. "Elves? Rare 'round these parts. Passing through or are you camped near?"

"Yes, we are-" Kelani hesitated, "just passing through. We are short of Embrium leaves, and were looking to trade."

"We've a bundle of Prophet's Laurel," Marion added.

"Prophet's Laurel," the man repeated, still staring at the two elves oddly. "Yes, yes, we could trade for some. Come in, come in."

The door opened widely and Kelani stepped inside after a pause. Marion looked up as he followed, noting more of the reddish-brown paint in the wood of the threshold. The interior was unremarkable, open, and strangely empty. There were a few pieces of furniture covered in crockery and hunting supplies, crates, barrels, but most of the floor and walls were bare, save for a few pitiful candles. It struck him as strange for a house, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps it was used as something different? As a lodge or gathering place, perhaps.

"Our mage will be happy to talk with you. He knows all sorts of things regarding plants and their uses," the man explained, leading them further inward. His eyes flitted towards them between each word, like clockwork. There was something off about the mention of the mage, but Marion was unaccustomed to how things such as that worked with humans. A running theme, he realized bitterly. 

"Your mage isn't in a Circle?" Kelani asked, and Marion was thankful at least  _ someone _ knew something about human mages.

"Oh no, not any longer. He's from the north," the man replied, still leading them further into the winding halls of the lodge house. 

The two elves exchanged a curious look, but before they could ask, they had arrived at a nondescript door, lit by the interspersed candles along the hall. There was only darkness where the edges didn't quite line up with the threshold, and Marion could no longer deny the sense of foreboding he'd been ignoring for the sake of this mission. The man turned the handle and ushered them through into a poorly lit room.

A poorly lit room that at least had various plants drying from the rafters and a strong aroma of lavindula and Embrium, enough to overpower his nose at first. He breathed a sigh of relief regardless, stepping through and towards the workspace only to pause as his attention was caught between two things in quick succession.

The first was a noise not unlike thunder, crashing down the hallway.

The second was a pooling tackiness against the soles of his feet as he stepped through the doorway, the intermittent dripping of unseen liquid, of a droplet hitting his cheek. It was this that had him lifting his eyes up to the rafters.

Horror was a beast that crept up his throat and stopped his heart, that widened his eyes and drowned out the incoming storm with static. The bloodlessly pale elvhen body strung up from the rafters met his gaze without pity. There were so many more-

Hands grasped his biceps as the world flooded back in with a gasp and a scream. The thunder was feet and all the doors and halls they had passed flooded the way out with humans. Many were grabbing and pulling Kelani away, but the man from before went for him, as did most of the others. 

But they would not string these elves up from the rafters so easily, not if Marion could help it.

Rearing his head forward, Marion slammed his skull back into the face of the man behind his back, feeling the crunch of cartilage. A single set of hands released him, but that would need to be enough. Reaching for his hunting dagger, he stabbed behind him, meeting flesh before twisting both body and wrist. One down and- Marion's eyes widened in surprise- half a dozen more to go. 

Kelani screamed as she was dragged away.

"I'll be there soon, Kell," Marion shouted, and then steeled himself for the fight.

The villagers were unprepared for a scuffle at least, and Marion would take any advantage he could get. He had two daggers and some vials in his potions pack he could use to poison and incite flames respectively. His sword was virtually useless in such close quarters but it was still strapped to his back. It would be enough. 

Marion dropped lower to the ground, stepping backwards from the men surrounding him and ignoring the pull of the blood under his feet. He'd need to be quick.

The human men watched him warily from a short distance away, hands at the ready to try and grab him. He'd need to get close to use his dagger, but moving closer had its own risks. If they got enough leverage he wouldn't stand a chance at escaping, and they knew it.

It was a long moment of deliberation before one of the humans got impatient and charged at him. Marion braced his feet and ducked to the side, catching the man in the hip and through the side. Another chose to take the opportunity to attack, seeing as Marion's weapon was still embedded in his neighbor, and rushed in with a shout. He was quick to move his dagger up in a wide slice- but it was too close. Much too close. He could practically see the cogs whirling away in the remaining four as they contemplated a different strategy.

Marion couldn't defend against all four at once, and the men knew it. He'd need to take a more aggressive stance.

Before they could make any moves, Marion shot forward and sliced, catching one of the humans in the arm and across the belly, too shallowly to do much more than stun. It wasn't ideal but he couldn't dwell. Instead he turned to the other three, catching one who went to grab him in the stomach as another managed to wrap a hand around his other arm. He was yanked forwards leaving his knife behind, the burly man from before reaching out for him, but he had another knife. The man's fingers flew to the ground before he could touch Marion, and his screams bounced off the bodies in the ceiling and caught on the blood carpeting the floor.

"Bastard," the man shouted, his fist with all his remaining fingers connecting to Marion's cheek in a solid punch that had the elf stumbling back. "If only the mage didn't need you alive."

That certainly complicated things. He no longer had to worry about murder, his or Kelani's, at their hands, instead he had to avoid capture at all costs. No doubt  _ that _ would lead to something worse than death. Kelani needed his help.

Marion jabbed an elbow back before ducking under the burly man's next punch. His face throbbed angrily, and his wrist ached, but the adrenaline would carry him through- until it ran out or he died horribly, whichever came first- so he tightened his grip and brought the knife up catching the man's stomach and tearing. 

This dagger was duller than his other one, used more for practicality than for hunting and slicing. It didn't cut through the man's shirt and skin so much as ripped it like aged canvas. The man stumbled back to grasp at his mutilated belly with a ragged shout and Marion took the opportunity to turn his bloody dagger onto his captor.

These men wouldn't be stopping him again any time soon.

Running back through the door, Marion followed the winding hallways towards- something,  _ anything _ that would lead him to Kelani. Spatters of blood, a mosaic of scattered beads torn from Kelani's clothes, screams in the distance- a compass made of cruel intentions, a tragedy in the making. He followed its needle desperately. A few men and women attempted to stop him, ones that had survived Kelani's struggling or heard Marion's. They lunged from shadowy doors and hallways, but his knife made short work of each, and they joined the scattered corpses dotting the hallways like macabre breadcrumbs. They clearly needed him alive, he couldn't say the same for them.

The screams grew louder, closer, a mix of Kelani and male- the mage, perhaps- and the air began to take on the ozone tinge of magic. He was nearly there, skidding through a doorway only to find that he was closer than he thought. 

Not even five paces away stood the northern mage in some large workroom, Kelani's knife embedded in his gut as she slumped against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Likely, it was. Blood dribbled from her side, the armor pierced by jagged shards of ice. A few were still stuck in the wooden boards of the wall, a few more wavered in the air as the mage gripped the dagger in his belly and tore it free with a groan. He didn't let his blood flow free, however.

There was a reason why, when fighting blood mages (rare as it thankfully was to do), one must always strike to kill. 

Marion slid his sword from its sheath, the rasp alerting the two of his presence. Kelani let out a weak but thankful sigh as she slid to the floor. The trail of blood she left on the wall was concerning, but the mage had to come first.

"Why elves?" He asked, despite dreading the answer.

The man sneered, eyeing him with a dark look. "They are weak," he shrugged.

The daggers of ice wobbled, but with a flick of the humans wrist they careened towards Marion like arrows, splintering the wood paneling and breaking the crockery and jars behind him. There was no use in praying for his mana to be low, blood mages pulled power from more than the Fade. He'd need to be careful and wait for an opening.

Easier said than done as a shard of ice sliced his arm as he ducked away. 

Marion had fought many things before; bandits and thieves mostly, bears and wolves just as often, Darkspawn just recently, a juvenile wyvernling with help from Mahanon, and he'd even fought an apostate once. There was a readability to all but the last. Most things telegraphed their movements before striking, giving subtle warning signs with their body language before each intended strike. The grip on a blade, growls and taunts and hisses, the glint of eyes as they darted about, the shift of feet and hands and fingers. Marion watched everything he fought closely, he couldn't afford not to while he lived in the dangerous Wilds, and he learned.

The apostate he fought was the only deviation, the only thing that defied expectations, worse than any desperate cornered animal he had brought down before. Blood magic had been the hapless trespasser's last resort, until the demon took over and made him momentarily regret turning the mage away from stopping at his clan's camp for a brief respite. In a way, he expected this fight to go similarly. Practiced spells and exaggerated movements until the futility kicked in and each flourish became more rushed, the targets haphazard, the openings wider, the unpredictable panic clear as day until something else took notice. He still had ice in his bones from fighting that apostate. Fighting the Rage demon afterwards was a respite in comparison. Cornered animals were harder to fight than demons, whose movements could be read easily, so he found himself hoping this fight would eventually lead to the same end as the apostates.

He likely wouldn't even need to wait as long, since demons were attracted to blood the same way as the glitterfish in the river were. 

Except it was becoming rapidly clear that this was not going to go how his fight with the apostate went. For one, the blood mage moved with far more surety, grace, and  _ purpose _ than the stiff, textbook style that easily devolved into frenzied lashings by the apostate. This was a mage comfortable with magic under their skin. The confidence was worrying. No matter how close Marion's sword came to hitting, the blood mage remained calm, calculating, Fade-stepping from range and throwing up barriers of magic and frothy blood from his own body, and likely stolen from Kelani. 

Secondly, this was a mage who  _ actually knew blood magic _ .

Another jagged shard of ice grazed his skin, leaving a splattering trail of red as he ducked away. The droplets immediately rose from the floorboards and joined the rest in a syrupy conglomeration of blood.

Distant shouting pricked at Marion's ears.

He needed to end this, do  _ something _ . 

He couldn't get close without the mage Fade-stepping away, or land a hit through the hazy barrier of reinforced blood. He was out of throwing daggers and reinforcements would be here soon. The mage offered few openings, aware of his weak spots, the difference in physical strength and speed. 

Marion's blood dripped steadily from a line across his arm, trailing down to bead at the tip of his finger. Each droplet would waver before it fell, distracting, incessant, and as soon as it hit the ground, would begin making a speedy pilgrimage to join the rest of his spilled blood in the barrier. Sometimes the mage would pull the blood into his hands through open slices, releasing it after a few seconds in a fine mist, charged with the sharp ozone of magic. 

It must be the reason for how easily he could manipulate it, as if it were a limb. 

It gave him an idea. 

He just needed a distraction

Testing and teasing at the mage's tacky barrier, Marion ducked in close with wide swings with his sword in one hand and poison vial in the other, thumb on the cork stopper. Dropping low, moving close, no hit seemed to matter when faced with a barrier made of blood and magic. The mage didn't even bother Fade-stepping away from him as his shortsword clattered uselessly, smiling like a cat who cornered a mouse. He couldn't find a single opening and it had his strikes flagging. He couldn't find an opening, a single weak spot. 

The noise of the remaining humans drew closer.

The mage knocked the sword from Marion's shaking hand with a sweep of force magic, sending his stomach plummeting to the ground with it. He stood, panting for breath and with blood rushing in his ears- if it wasn't already oozing out of the jagged cuts dotting his arms and legs. It struck him then, how he didn't want to die strung up from the rafters like a warding charm.

Maybe he could use the poison on himself and Kelani instead, make it quick-

A dagger zoomed by, the aim wild but enough to pull the attention of the mage. The human turned, growling at Kelani's trembling form, "I thought I  _ told _ you to stay down, you knife-eared bitch."

Kelani cackled at him wetly in response, inscensing him further and Marion worried for the briefest moment if he should ask her to stop, to just run, to quit drawing attention to herself.

To stop being a distraction.

Thumbing the cork out of the poison vial, Marion quickly splashed it across the bloody barrier while Kelani weakly layered insults and curses onto the fuming mage. He worried the glinting arc of greenish concentrated spider venom would catch the human's attention, but he seemed to be seeing red instead- in more ways than one. Hopefully it would be enough.

Or, he supposed, it wouldn't really matter anymore.

Kelani was in the middle of a shaky diatribe detailing just where the mage could shove various parts of his body when he finally exploded with a shout and a powerful mind blast. Both elves were knocked back; Kelani back against the wall and Marion halfway across the room and into a pile of pottery shards.

"I will not stand here and listen to  _ filth _ ," he shouted, pulling all the blood of his barrier back into his hand and back out into a cobweb of dark, coagulated tendrils. Marion did not know much about magic, let alone  _ blood magic _ , but even he could tell whatever the mage planned would not be good. He could only hope the spider venom would take- the mage pointed his other hand in Marion's direction and his heart lurched sickly as something grabbed hold. He trembled and shuddered uselessly against the pull in his arteries. "How about having the mighty elf warrior do the honors of bleeding you dry," the mage drawled.

Marion blanched, redoubling his efforts to fight against the magic tugging his veins like marionette strings. His hand wrapped shakily around a jagged scrap of broken pottery, cutting into his flesh, as a scream bubbled up his throat with no outlet. Shakily his legs stood and he felt himself move, disconnected and yet still aware of his feet, his wounds, his pounding heart, but helpless to stop it. 

It felt like an eternity of futile struggling, of slow steps towards Kelani, of watching her slump in resignation, of the mage cackling and distant footsteps growing more near before it all seemed to freeze. The mage's face twisted, his muscles seizing, and the strings holding Marion prisoner snapped. It was all he needed to spin and stab the jagged shard in his hand between the man's ribs with a desperate scream tearing its way out of him. He stabbed again, and again, until he could be sure no elf would fall victim to the man's blood magic again. 

Then, with shaking hands he stumbled to Kelani. "Kell, fen'mae," he whispered, gathering her close and grimacing at the hole in her flesh. She used to hold him the same, when he was wracked with seizing as a child, would do the same for Mahanon when his nightmares grew to frightening. She had cared for them after their mother had passed and now- "Let's get you to Ellana, Kell. She'll fix you up, so just hold on."

Kelani huffed a wet laugh but nodded. "I-I got the Embrium," she said, holding out a bloodied little jar of dried red petals. "Fallan will be alright."

Marion's stomach lurched,  _ but you won't be _ , his brain traitorously supplied. "Of course. You'll be his hero."

Quickly as he could, Marion splashed the contents of his remaining vial of potion over as much of the dry wood of the cursed lodge as he could. Then came the candles, tipping over every flame he got ahold of and watching as his firestarting brew took. It would be a nightmare to put out, unless they had plenty of dry sand on hand, and would be enough to cover their escape- hopefully.

He scooped up Kelani and didn't wait to find out. 

The room they were in was miraculously closer to where they first entered, and from there it was a mad dash to find a horse, easily untethered and coerced into carrying them, Kelani worryingly limp in the saddle. The foundations of the lodge lit with fire, blazing bright in the night behind them, and Marion kicked his heels into their stolen mount. Shouts rang out, a bell joining in as the remaining villagers sprang to work trying to put out the now roaring inferno. 

He didn't look back as they headed to their camp atop the hill. 

He could only hope the chaos of the spreading fire would cover their camp, and keep them safe until they could move again. It didn't offer near as much comfort as he wished, not with Kelani's state and the threat of retaliation so close. Not with so much going wrong. He tried to hold onto what he could, regardless.

What little hope he did have was dashed as he neared their little camp, eyes following Talin's hands as she shakily stacked the rocks of a small cairn under the flickering light of a torch. Kelani slid in his hold, a dead weight in his arms, and the Embrium fell to the ground. Nobody asked for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what could be next? A vacation maybe?
> 
> Except Marion does not know what those are, so guess it'll have to be something awful instead!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
